Waiting For the Miracle
by Perzephone
Summary: "Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know where he is? Huh? I'll have to settle for his loved ones instead!" Sin City, Chanel couture meets the Dark Knight, put the power in the female's mind, and a loaded gun, and she will give you an ah-musing game.
1. Chapter 1

**Waiting For the Miracle**

"Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know where he is? Huh? I'll settle for his loved ones instead!" Sin City meets the Dark Knight, put the power in the female's mind, and she will give you an _ah-musing _game.

**A/N: **Hey guys, this is another story I've been thinking of writing for a while. This isn't a romance story though, sorry guys if that's what you're looking for. Well, you can kind of call it, but it's a long story and you'll

Have

To

Read

To

Find out :3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything from DC. **

**I do own my character.**

Honestly, is there really anything better then the smell of fresh, high-quality coffee bubbling away in the kitchen at the scathingly early hours of the morning? Too bad I wasn't smelling it—all I smelled was my AM dragon breath and had an irritating alarm clock to boot. I desperately hit the snooze button and hid beneath my thick sheets, not wanting to leave the warm cocoon I had made for myself. Why was the bed so uncomfortable when you're trying to go to sleep, but so damn comfy when you're trying to get up?

I relished the five minutes before my alarm clock decided to go off again, which did so right on cue just as I was about to drift back into sleep. In those spacious five minutes, I sluggishly ran over what I had to do today in an effort to rouse myself better—today was going to be a busy day, and I had fashioned myself several drinks last night and the sunlight beyond my bed sheets were going to burn my eyes out, making my headache worse.

I had lunch with my older brother today—he was going to want to know how my moving in was going. It was going as good as it could be, I guessed. Boxes and misplaced furniture piled eerily about the room, making me feel homesick for Metropolis. But I was here now, in an attempt to try to change my path in life, although I wasn't sure how Gotham City was going to provide a responsible one for me to choose.

The alarm went off again and against my better judgment, I hit snooze again and rolled over, feeling crabby, mostly because I was having childish feelings of shyness towards a new home. Metropolis was dangerous, but Gotham was worse. I had landed an excellent job at my brother's work—he had been the one to get me into a nice little receptionist position after my previous job in Metropolis saw fit to commit mass lay-offs, and I was one of the causalities.

At least I didn't have to stay in the piece of shit part of Gotham.

The phone rang, but I didn't want to get up to answer it, and let it go to the answering machine. I heard my voice speak. _"Hello, you. Please leave me a message and I will return your call. Thank you." _Click, short beep. My brother's voice followed swiftly.

"_Hey Barbie, it's Harvey. Just reminding you, we got lunch today, don't be late this time. Also, get ready for orientation tomorrow. See you at 12. Love you, bye." _The message ended. I groaned softly and sat up with my eyes closed, just as my alarm went off again. I switched it off irritably, and dragged my feet across the soft, pale pink carpet of my new bedroom, walking into the hallway lined with more boxes and furniture not yet neatly arranged, smelling that invasive, strange-home scent of drywall and fresh paint that old apartments brought to new tenants. I walked into my new kitchen, and opened the box that held my coffee maker. I lugged it over to the dark marble counter, and set it down, plugging it in. Slowly, I assembled ingredients for a fresh pot of joe. It was going to be a long morning of planning and writing lists and plans of where everything was going to go, and then lunch with the new DA, and then the rest of my afternoon looked pretty damn dreary, unpacking and arranging things.

As that fresh coffee smell that I had craved began to fill the kitchen, I leaned back on the counter, running my fingers through my hair. It needed a wash. I looked around my new surroundings.

From the bachelor pad I had owned in Metropolis, just down the street from my aunt and uncle, which had a tiny cube of a bathroom and just two small windows in the entire place, I had come to the high-end of Gotham, which wasn't very high to begin with but you get where I'm coming from. Harvey pulled some strings for me, banning me from even thinking of moving into the shitty part of Gotham. I myself had no desire to rub shoulders with mobsters, homeless people and junkies, but you basically had to know someone in politics to get into a nice place, which thankfully I do.

My old, tiny kitchen didn't compare to this. Dark marble counter tops, a chrome sink and garberator, silver dishwasher and mahogany cupboards. All the appliances were new and the fridge came with an ice maker. Underneath one of the cupboards hanging over the counter was a rack for martini and wine glasses.

I looked over the pile of boxes in the doorway into the living room. The living room was definitely the best part of the place, even the fancy bathroom with the claw bathtub. It had large studio windows, giving me a floor to ceiling view of Gotham's downtown, which was already filled with activity, even this early in the morning. My dog, Shima, was sleeping in his huge brown dog-bed against the window, and he opened one dark eye to survey me. Confirming I was indeed his master, he closed his eyes again. It was a wonder how Harvey managed to allow me to keep the big German shepherd, let alone get me in here in the first place. When I saw how much the rent was going to be monthly I had almost swooned.

However, the pay I'll be receiving at the Gotham District Attorney & Law Office as their receptionist would keep me securely in this nice place with food in the fridge, wine on the racks and clothes on my back. And jewellery, and lipstick, and scarves. Harvey always prodded at me over it, irritated that I needed to buy new clothes every time money came into my hand—what can I say? I _loved _shopping, I loved clothes and shoes, I loved class and the higher things in life. It looked like I was one step closer to achieving that high-class dream, too.

I poured myself coffee, added coffee mate, and then walked back into my bedroom, through it, into the bathroom. I had managed to get the bathroom set up last night, as the bathroom was secretly one of my favorite places _ever. _I loved the smooth, clean porcelain, brilliant red marble, the little shelf on the tub so I could place candles, bath oils, an ashtray and figurines.

I started the shower, and slipped out of my sleeping shirt and socks. I stood in front of the mirror as the water got warm and the bathroom filled with steam, and I prodded the dark circles underneath my eyes, the blackheads plaguing my nose, my dry lips. My eyebrows were sticking up everywhere, I needed to tame them. Harvey always bitched and complained when we were teenagers that it took me _forever _to leave the house but he didn't understand that I looked like the crypt keeper in the morning and there was no way in hell I was leaving the house looking like how I do.

I brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower, hopped out, and wrapped myself up in a housecoat. It was nine AM now. I wondered over to the tremendously large stack of boxes neatly labeled _clothes, shoes, accessories, make-up, hair…_ the list went on. I carried each heavy box to my rumpled bed, and opened them. Getting ready for the day was a very important ritual for me. Call it conceited, high-maintenance, narcissistic, arrogant. I _refused _to step out that door without looking perfect. This was why sometimes it took me three hours to get ready.

It took me forever to select appropriate garments. We were planning on dining at Jean & Walter's, an upper- class restaurante bistro with crystal glasses and spotless cutlery, and reservations. I selected a violet top, a white belt, and dark pants. It took me twenty minutes to select the stilettos I was going to wear—in the wise words of Audrey Hepburn; _a lady should never step outside without her favorite pair of stilettos. _

I did my hair, my make-up. Then, I poured Shima a bowl of food, which he gobbled, spraying bits of munch all over the dusty floor. Then, I sat on a box, balanced my clipboard over my knees, and wrote a list of things to do today. My morning passed like that, I smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee, Shima sniffing his new surroundings, until I glanced up at 11 30 and I was to meet Harvey at Jean & Walter's in fifteen minutes. I got on my heels, kissed Shima goodbye, and walked out into the hallway.

The hallway of the apartment was grand, with dark carpets and walls, dim lighting, making the atmosphere tres romantic. I locked the door, and walked down the hallway, swinging my purse over my shoulder. The cool metal of my earrings graced the skin below my ear. I stepped into the elevator, made my way down. On the way down, I looked at my reflection on the mirrored walls. I was vain, I would admit that. At least I _could _admit it. But I usually don't. In a way it was a curse, it seemed sometimes like half my day was based upon improving my appearance, which probably worked fine to begin with. I had a strict routine, from early morning runs with Shima to fasting frenzies that would sometimes leave me weak and feeling faint although I just couldn't seem to get slim enough.

The contoured mirror made my thighs look slightly big and I sighed, smoothing my pants. The door tinged open and I walked into the lobby, and out through the front doors into the late-morning Gotham. The traffic was slow and looked torturous. I pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head—not much sunlight after the breakfast hour around here, I guessed. The sky was overcast and looked moody, like it was about to throw a tantrum and let loose a vicious thunderstorm. The towering buildings were stark contrast—dark glass, steel, grey concrete, and although the graffiti was a little more diminished in this area of town, there was still enough. Men and women in business suits walked past me, heading out on their lunch breaks. Lots of people talking on their cell phones, smoking, lot's of people in a hurry and looking stressed or just downright depressed. Thunder rumbled over my head. Maybe I should join in too.

I walked to the curb, where my black car was parked. I hopped in, shutting the door, the outside world's soundtrack of car horns, screeching tires, millions of voices, the hum of humanity, was cut short. I turned on my car, turned down the music that started blasting from it, and drove away from my spot without putting on my seatbelt—bad habit, and one that would not end well for me, I would find out soon.

I cruised through the city. It was the same size as Metropolis, with just as much culture—although the culture here was dark and sort of sinister. Like hope was just a flickering light being doused with syrup. I feigned for a cigarette, but if Harvey smelled tobacco on me he would shit a brick. He hated me smoking. So I had told him I quit and that would be exactly how it remained, in my eyes. Massive buildings surrounded me, casting shadows in the concrete jungle. I searched for the street that the restaurant was on—my Blackberry was being useless at home, as I had forgotten it. However, the name of the street stuck in my mind, _Wayne Avenue_, and I turned down what I hoped was the right street and almost immediately _Jean & Walter _was in sight.

I parked, triumphant that I was five minutes early, which was hard for me to pull off sometimes. Sometimes, things just come up. Like that sale on Clementine and lavender dress sandals in the retail store's window right next door to _Jean & Walter's. _No. Don't do it. Harvey would kill me if he found out I had bought yet _another _pair of shoes. I had to make whatever money I had left over from my previous job last.

However.

I _was _starting my new job tomorrow. And I'm sure one little pair of lavender sandals wouldn't hurt. I mean, I could just stuff it into my car before I go inside and he will be none the wiser. And I could pay for lunch too, just to show him that I am capable of achieving good money management!

So, it was settled. I _had _to buy them. It was _essential, _for both me and my brother. For him to put faith in me that I can handle my life alone, and for me because those shoes are so damn hot. I mean, opal and amethyst gems? Aquamarine sole? I still had five minutes.

I locked up my car and bolted over to the store.

Three minutes later I skipped out, happily holding my fresh white box containing my leopard-print high heels. Yes, I realize I ended up walking out with something completely different, but the sandals hadn't seemed as nice in my hands, and those leopard prints were definitely catching my eye lately.

I tossed the shoes into my trunk carefully, and walked up the stones steps of the restaurant, and entered. The atmosphere was warm, inviting. It smelled like spaghetti, feta cheese and wood-fires. The place was packed, which didn't surprise me, waiters and waitresses bustling back and forth, all the women in here well dressed and so pretty, all the men in suits and ties and handsome. I approached the hostess, who was standing on a small cherry-wood podium behind a circular desk, a large book open underneath her manicured fingers.

"Hi, do you have reservations?" She asked politely.

"Yes, under Dent."

"Harvey Dent? The District Attorney?" Her thin eyebrows quipped up in interest.

"Yes, please."

"Cecile will lead you there." The girl snapped her fingers and a young blonde girl came forward and hurriedly rushed me throughout the throng of eating people. Cecile didn't look like she wanted to be here, that's for sure. I myself was pretty happy to see Harvey. Even though he was the over-bearing older brother who always wanted more for me, I loved him a lot. He was being seated when I saw him, by another waitress. He saw me and I waved. He smiled back, and I heard him ask for two cups of coffee as we approached.

After I got settled in, I gushed. My moving to Gotham had inspired mixed emotions within me, but my fear, anxiety and apprehension always melted in the presence of Big Bro. I was so proud of him becoming DA, although from the reputation Gotham had, it looked like he had his work cut out for him. But, I had faith in him. I still have a _I Believe In Harvey Dent _pin stuck onto one of my purse's straps in my boxes somewhere. I knew this city was so corrupt, so dirty, and I honestly wasn't sure if Harvey could do it. He was an excellent lawyer before an attorney, and all of a sudden, his promotion shot him to the very top. I could compare him to Supe, if I wanted, but I unfortunately was not naive enough to think that one man vs one city would end with good conclusions.

I told him about my plan for the day and where I would put furniture. He promised he would come over after work and help me move the heavier things, but I had a sneaking suspicion he would forget. He was a busy guy, and not to mention was seeing someone. I had to meet Rachel Dawes on Friday at dinner. I was enthusiastic, the way Harvey always talked about her in emails or on the phone made me think that she was The One for him.

We talked for about an hour and a half, and then Harvey went back to work. He was within walking distance of the Law Office—in fact, it was right across the street. We said our good-byes, and as he disappeared into the traffic, I looked up at the huge building. It kind of reminded me of the book _1984, _simply for its huge, dark animosity, a 34 story high fortress of black, glossy windows and wire framing. It blocked whatever sunlight could worm its way out of the overcast sky. I pulled my jacket around me tighter as I slowly walked back to my car, lighting a cigarette when I was sure Harvey couldn't see me.

I was about to step into my car when a stray newspaper got swept into my thigh with the increasing wind. Annoyed, I snatched at it, hoping the damp end of it was just puddle water and not dog piss. I glanced at it out of curiosity as it was the front page of the Gotham Times and Harvey's picture was on it. Harvey was in a side column success story tribute to his new position, but the main headline was nowhere near as celebratory.

_**Crime Wave? Two More Victims**_

It read, and underneath it was a fuzzy security camera picture blown up a few sizes, where I could distinctly make out the newest threat to Gotham City, the Jester. Or the Joker. We had not heard of him in Metropolis, yet. The man looked like a royal mess, with greasy hair, and his face painted terribly to resemble a clown mask, although he must have let Tim Burton or a small child design his super villain persona. He was standing in a bank vault and looking up at the camera menacingly. He had robbed another bank, left two innocent people dead and one crippled in his path. I frowned, and crumpled up the paper and tossed it back into the gutter.

I made it home. Shima barked when I walked in the door, and I smiled at him despite the fact that I was dreading having to start unpacking everything. I slipped off my heels and stretched my toes, peeling off my black dress socks, picking fluff from between my toes. Cracking them, I batted Shima playfully, refilled his water bowl, and took my new heels to my room. I pushed aside discarded clothes from this morning and laid them on my bed, loving them already. That five inch stiletto could put a hole in someone's head. I opened my purse to retrieve the receipt and frowned when I realized how much loose money was in my purse. I had neglected to set up a bank account while I was out, so I would have to get that taken care of today.

So, until about three thirty, when I deemed a reasonable time, I stopped unpacking and arranging things the best to my abilities, and had the bedroom, the bathroom and half the kitchen done. Satisfied, I shook my hair from its ponytail, applied some lippy, threw on my jacket and new leopard print heels, and after a moment of consideration decided to take Shima for a walk.

"C'mere, boy!" I called, tossing my car keys back into my purse and reaching for the dogs leash instead, he bounded towards me, nails clicking on the wooden hallway floor. I smiled, clipped the leash to his collar, and walked back into the hallway with him. I had been hoping the elevator would be empty, but there was an old lady in there that looked absolutely disgusted that I had a dog with me. I couldn't be happier to have Shima out in the fresh air, and we walked up the street, the big shepherd sniffing his surroundings.

Shima had been a gift from Harvey, for her 23rd birthday three years ago. I adored Shima, having raised him from a tiny puppy to this sleek, healthy guard dog. I definitely felt a lot safer with him living with me—I don't know about you, but if I was a mugger or crook or whatever I wouldn't exactly choose the person who had a huge-ass, 195 pound attack dog that just naturally looked cranky. But maybe that's just me.

I came to the first bank I ran across—a lush, white marble antique, a credit union that had prospered rapidly with a mysterious revenue. It was close to my place, though. I was happy that the late afternoon sunlight was finally deciding to prosper in its brief break from overcast clouds. Traffic increased and I saw a few bright yellow school buses lumber along, school was out. I tied Shima to the designated dog post on the curb, and walked into the bank.

There was a small line-up so I felt I wouldn't get too bored, standing here for a bit. I looked around the well-lit interior, listened to the non-silence of the quiet workplace. It was actually rather serene and I folded my arms loosely and leaned back on one foot, preparing myself for at least half an hour or signing things, producing ID, all that good stuff, for a new bank account. It was a shame they didn't carry the bank I used in Metropolis in Gotham, so I had to pull everything out of my bank account and had it all in my purse, which needed to be deposited. No way was I going to be carrying around that much cash. I always preferred debit cards, so much more versatile. My mind busied itself from boredom, drawing me in so far that when the unexpected spray of gunshots cracked the air, I screamed threw myself to the ground as soon as I could. Silent chaos erupted as three men in dark clothes and ugly clown masks ran up the length of the bank towards them.

"_Nobody move! Nobody! I'll shoot ya if you do!" _One of the men yelled, his voice muffled behind the mask, holding a jet black semi-automatic saw-off that screamed cold, hard death for whoever was unfortunate enough to look down the barrel of it. I thrusted myself up against the counter, and then slipped behind the janitor's cleaning trolley. My heart hammered violently. Fear gripped me. Someone screamed. Within thirty seconds I realized that I could be very much dead in the coming thirty seconds, and I hid behind the smelly janitor cart, praying.

Mortal terror has a lot of effect on people. It makes you cold, makes you hot, makes you sweat and shake. It makes your mind think of a billion and one possibilities of things you could've done differently to avoid the situation. It also has a billion and one ideas of what's going to happen to you. You feel your eyes bulge, sweat pour down your face, your hands get cold and clammy, your throat is closing like you're having a serious allergic reaction to something.

And then of course, the emotion itself.

It only worsened as there was the sound of a pump-action blowing a hole through glass. Yelling erupted. _"Don't you know who you're stealin' from?" _A man yelled, and another gunshot followed. "_One of your friends is dead!" _Three more gunshots. Silence. I dared not to look around, in risk that it would sign my death certificate. And then, the sound of an automatic, and the sound of someone hitting the hard floor. I couldn't help it, I twisted and looked, careful to only peek out, so as not to reveal my hiding spot.

Three. Long. Minutes. Whoever survived were dragging money bags from the vault into the middle of the lobby. The people still trapped within were either holding grenades with the keys pulled out, the only thing stopping them from exploding were their thumbs holding the switch down. Someone was dead—in fact, make that two. Everyone else was quiet as a graveyard, and so was I, not daring to move. If they caught me hiding, I might end up getting split in half.

And then, a tremendous crumbling noise came from the front of the bank, making me jump. I looked over, and could see what I believed to be the bank manager laying on his side, his head bobbing up and down as he tried to gain enough air to speak. And a _school bus _had backed its way into the bank's front entrance. I stared as the last remaining clown looked over another clown-mask wearing guy who had been crushed by debris from the bus' sudden arrival. The back door of the bus opened and out popped yet another guy in a clown mask, and I watched with some sick sort of fascination as they threw duffel bags stuffed with cash into the back of the bus, and then one of the clowns shot the other. I gasped as the guy fell to the ground and the other one hadn't even spared him a backwards glance.

He finished loading the money. I feared that he would see me as if he looked hard enough he could possibly see me, as I was right in direct vision. And then, bank manager started to talk. "Look at you." He coughed. "Criminals in this town. They used to believe in things. Honor. Respect. What do you believe in, huh? _What do you believe in?"_ He was choked short as the remaining clown approached him and stuffed some sort of fuselage into his mouth.

"I believe," I could barely hear his voice from where I was, but it was nasal, high-pitched… it sounded loose. He took his mask off and my heart seized in my chest as I realized the Joker was only fifteen feet away from me. I clapped a hand over my mouth in case he might hear me breathe. "Whatever doesn't _kill_ you, simply makes you… _stranger." _The scars on his face were even more horrifying in real life. His eyes were black sparks, so much black face paint covering them. He grinned, and then ran back over to the bus and threw it, shutting the door behind him. He was a tall, agile looking man with a certain grace about him. He was _gross._ He pulled the bus out of the bank, a large chunk of stone crashing to the floor after its leaving. I watched as the fuselage in the bank manager's mouth popped off, and smoky purple gas began to fill the area. The manager spat it out but it was too late—he started laughing. And not ha-ha-ha that was kinda funny, no, a crazy, maniacal laugh that brought tears to your ears and heard your vocal cords. He was also turning purple from lack of air.

I was one of the lucky ones that didn't have live grenades in their hands, and we pelted out of the bank, a few more people succumbing to the laugh-gas. I had pulled my decorative scarf over my face—so they do end up being useful, hey?—and ran straight into a cop's arms. He had a SWAT mask over his face and a pump-action in one of his hands, and instead he whipped me around and ran me back to the curb, out of harm's way, and also where Shima was barking like a nutcase. I ran to him and he calmed down, and I was relieved he was okay, feeling bad that I hadn't even tossed him a moment's worry while I was in there. My legs shook. The street was blocked off and swarming with fire engines, police cars, a SWAT van, a helicopter in the air, ambulances, paramedics, black ghost cars. It was a circus. A paramedic approached me and I was smoking a cigarette, holding onto Shima's collar. He asked if I was okay. I denied the blanket he offered. I let him check my vitals to ensure I wouldn't go into shock, and after he was reassured, he told me I could go home.

I was only asked a few questions by an investigating officer. I knew nothing. Maybe the information I had would be relevant, but I wanted to go home. At that moment, the fact that I had witnessed the Joker's cruelty had been enough for me and I didn't want to end up a courtroom testifying.

"Let's just do our banking in Metropolis, hey boy?" I said to Shima, walking back up the street with him, afraid. When she got off the block, she started to cry, and when she started to cry, she called her brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Waiting For the Miracle**

**A/N: Hey guys, here's chapter two. I worked really hard on this so I hope I definitely delivered. If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to ask. I really hope everyone likes what I'm doing with the story- I always liked the sleazy, dark trash-mance of Sin City but I definitely want some female power in here (not that I'm a left-wing or anything), and I definitely want to add in some Batman madness. Here we go!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything from DC. I do own Barbara Dent.**

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay here?" Harvey asked for the tenth time, leaning back in the kitchen chair. I nodded, sipping my drink. I thought it was under good circumstances to have a few vodka martinis to calm myself down after the hectic day's events.

"I'm sure. Thanks."

"No problem…" Harvey rubbed his tired face. He looked older then he actually was. For a moment we were quiet, just listening to Shima pant at Harvey's feet and the sound of the radio coming from the kitchen counter. "I have to save this city." He said lowly. He looked at me. His eyes were fierce, but exhausted. "Are you sure he didn't see you?" He asked for the hundredth time. I had revealed to Harvey that I had seen the clown take off one of his mask's and reveal an even uglier clown underneath. I could still see his terrible face in my mind, clear as crystal. I could also still see the bank manager's face slowly turn purple from lack of oxygen. My hand shook slightly as I downed the rest of my drink. Harvey sipped from his dark rum.

"I don't think he saw me." I recounted slowly. "Otherwise, I'm sure I wouldn't be sitting here." Heavy silence. Maybe I should have chosen my words a little more carefully. Harvey sighed. "I think you can do it. Help Gotham. It's going to be hard though, with the Joker running around."

"Heh. And Scarecrow. And the Riddler. And Poison Ivy. Catwoman. Batman."

"I thought Batman was a good guy?"

"He is." Harvey nodded. "He is, but vigilantism is illegal, don't forget. No one's going to complain though… until they don't need him anymore." He looked out the large windows, down at the city he swore to protect. I chewed my lower lip. "I have a duty to keep the streets clean. It's not working to well, though. I can't even keep you safe."

"Hey, don't think like that!" I protested. "Scary things happen. I've just been having some bad luck the past few months. You just started out here, don't forget that. It's going to be a slow process, you know that. Have patience. Have some faith."

"Do you have faith?" He asked. I nodded.

"In you? Definitely." I followed his gaze towards the dark city outside my window. "In humanity? Meh, not so much." We looked at each other, and started to laugh—a weird, relieved laugh that had fear tinged behind it.

Harvey left after a while. He gave me a hug, told me to get a good night's sleep, it was my first day of work tomorrow and I should try to be fifteen minutes early, to be there before orientation starts. I was nervous, excited and anxious all at the same time. I thought about making myself another drink, decided against it, and instead to quell the anxiety within me I chose my outfits for the next day. Work-out, work, evening. Harvey was taking me to a small fundraiser/charity party around six. Choosing my clothes, with everything down to an absolute tee, was a very good way to relieve stress for me. It took me about an hour, and once satisfied, I called Shima to the bed and he lay at my feet, sighing heavily.

"I feel ya." I said, crawling underneath the covers and switching off my lamp. I waited for my eyes to adjust in the darkened room, and all I could hear and see were those awful fifteen minutes from a few hours ago, where I'm pretty sure I came face to face with the Antichrist and saw a man laugh himself to death. It made me feel ill. Shima whimpered, feeling my stress.

I slept terribly. If I did sleep, I was plagued with nightmares about the Joker. Except this time, he found me. You know that terrible sense of doom you sometimes get when you know you're in a bad situation? It was like that in my dream, times a thousand. My breath felt sticky in my throat, my eyes felt like they were swollen. I could only see half of what was going on, my limbs too heavy to let me do any more then just crawl. And then a gloved hand would grab my hair and pull me back…

I woke up at five thirty, fifteen minutes before my alarm went off. I lay there, sweating. Shima woke up, sensing my distress. He walked all over me. Grunting, I pushed him off and he barked. "Shh!" I scolded. I rubbed my face. My palms were sweaty and it made my face feel greasy. In the darkness, I listened to strange sounds and slowly resurrected myself from a broken sleep. I rolled out of bed when my alarm clock went off.

I showered, brushed my teeth. I was working on auto-pilot now. My hair wrapped up in a towel, I put on the coffee and sat at the kitchen table, moving a box down from the top of it to the ground. I would pound the pavement this morning with Shima, work off some extra steam. It made me antsy when I didn't run in the morning, it felt like a very important part of my day was missed, like a balanced breakfast. My drinks from last night came back to haunt me and I popped some Tylenol, poured myself a cup of steaming joe, and got ready. I slipped into sweats and a sweater, my running shoes, put my hair back and grabbed Shima's leash, who was more then happy to oblige as I put it on his collar.

I glanced out the large windows. The sun was barely poking over the horizon yet, for the most part it was still dark. However, the sky looked clear, some stars were still struggling to twinkle in the violet and aquamarine sky. I always loved sunrise. In Metropolis, from the bachelor pad I was staying in, I had an incredible view of the river and the sun rising almost every morning. I was going to miss running on the harbor, having to exchange that river smell for car exhaust and dog piss that soaked the dirty gutters here.

It was a little cool this morning, so I was thankful I had retrieved my sweater. As I ran along the sidewalk, Shima loping gracefully beside me, I let my mind sink into autopilot once again. This was good, so even when I felt like I was going to collapse, I had enough self-control and endurance to keep going. It's all in your mind, my dad always told me. Dad always wanted me and Harvey to be best of the best—best grades, best physical strength, best looks, best everything. He pushed us, hard, and before he died of a heart aneurysm I can safely say at least one of us succeeded. I thought about the job I was starting in a few hours. It made me feel anxious so I picked up the pace, staying on the same street so I wouldn't get lost in this strange city.

There were a few early-birdies out, some jogging, some power-walking, people sluggishly driving to work, trying to wake themselves up for another long, dreary day. I felt chilly as I thought that the Joker was _somewhere _in this city. I wondered where he was going to strike next. I think was scared me most was the fact that the distance I had been yesterday prevented me from seeing his eyes. All I saw were sparks. It made me think of demons. I lost my momentum and gasped for breath, but regained my composure. I stopped at the Gotham National Park, a lovely park that was riddled with drug addicts and criminals by night, ordinary citizens by day. I walked around it for a bit, catching my breath, listening to the birds twitter their merry morning songs.

When I made it home, I felt way better. I freshened up, did my hair and make up, and got dressed for work, although it was only seven thirty. I started at nine, but wanted to be there by eight thirty. I sipped coffee, smoked a cigarette, and wrestled with Shima over his massive, chewed bone that was going to be gone by the time I got home. He went through those bones like butter.

I ensured I looked indeed, quite fab. I was wearing my prim black Jimmy Choos, a black pencil skirt and a sea-shell pink blouse from Jean-Paul Gautier. I realized my zebra-striped Prada handbag did not go with the outfit so that was another ten minutes of selecting a Gucci leather tote and transporting the various items from my other purse. I finished my look with one of my million decorative scarves. Satisfied, I walked into the living room, happy to see the sun streaking through the windows, illuminating the place. Last night me and Harvey had arranged all the furniture, so all I needed to do was unpack the rest of my things. Shima lay on the couch, his healthy coat glossy in the early morning sun.

Orientation was certainly a test of wills. I sat on the uncomfortable chair in the cramped trainee/staff room while a middle-aged woman went over procedures and protocal and blah blah blah. At nine, I was free to go and I was glad to be rid of the stuffy room. I went to my desk at the front lobby, and sat down, and started my computer. Hey, at least I wasn't in a cubicle, like my last job! And now I was finally somewhere where I could use my course from uni on criminal justice, even if it was just arranging appointments, court dates, times, taking phone calls, questions, directories. I expected it to be a somewhat boring, somewhat fascinating job.

However, I was more then happy to get out at five o clock, feeling that weird sense of homesickness, anxiety and excitement. I was happy my first day jitters didn't rattle me too bad. I only saw Harvey once today and he was busy talking with the GPD liuetenant Jim Gordon, a friendly man with a pencil moustache and salt & pepper hair. What they were talking about I did not know, but I assumed it was serious, considering how anxious and keen Gordon had looked.

The air outside of the Gotham DA Law office was muggy, electric, and too humid. To top it all off, there was no sun. The sky was the color of metal, just dark and low-hanging clouds. Life rolled on by me, slow, sluggish. A police car zoomed up the busy avenue, trying to weave in and out of traffic without killing anyone, sirens blaring. I slowly walked to my car, tired. Although my day had been pretty busy, my mind kept wondering back to yesterday. The way I had curled up behind a stinky janitor cart, in fear for my life. It made my heart shiver and pound in my chest. I swallowed as I got into my car, started it, and pulled into late afternoon traffic. I'm not sure I will ever look at school buses the same way again.

When I got home, I kicked off my heels and sat down on my couch, switching on the TV. I should really be unpacking still, but I just couldn't bring myself too. I permitted Shima to rest his big head on my lap, and I played with his ears. The phone rang, but I was simply too lazy to get up. Besides. Sex and the City was on and I was feeling for Miranda and her love-hate relationship with Steven. The answering machine picked up.

_"Hey, it's me." _Harvey. "_Don't forget you have dinner with me and Rachel tomorrow night. Don't. Be. Late! It took me forever to get reservations in there, I had to tell them I worked for the government! Call me back, tell me how your first day went. Love you, bye." _I sighed and lit a cigarette. I inhaled hard on it, and let the smoke curl out through my nose. Closing my eyes, I tried to wipe my buzzing head free from thoughts. However, my mind kept going back to yesterday. The clown fascinated me. He was gross, greasy and obviously very crazy. And that bank manager, who laughed himself to death! What kind of a fiend would make such a gas? It was like the opposite of the Scarecrow's famed fear serum. Honestly, I'm not sure which one I'd rather die from. Neither would be preferable.

I watched the news, made a drink, and spent the rest of my evening unpacking. I hit the sheets early, too, and slept like the dead, unplagued with nightmares.

Work was the same as Monday. Busy. Cops, lawyers, attorney's, and other legal executives swarmed the place. It was crawling with law-enforcement. Prisoners were taken to criminal court downstairs, civil court upstairs. Jim Gordon from major crimes unit was there again, and I offered him a friendly hello. I liked him. He was a kind, sweet guy, looked too gentle for his demanding job.

"Hello, Barbara." He greeted, pausing to chat. It was around eleven thirty and I was excited for lunch. "How are you?"

"Not bad! How about you?" I asked. I was pretty bubbly today, hopped up on caffiene and sugar. I had a sudden urge for kit-kat bars earlier and had munched out on them this morning.

"Ah, been better." He chuckled. "You have some chocolate in your teeth." I gasped in horror and stopped smiling. "Is Mr Dent available today?" He looked down at my receptionist plaque and his brow raised. "Your last name is Dent, too?"

"Yes. I'm his little sister. He got me a job here." Gordon nodded, pleasantly. I looked through Harvey's appointment log. "He is free after two thirty, would you like me to make an appointment?"

"That was a good thing for him to do. And yes, please."

"Okay!" I enthusiastically wrote it down, trying not to show how embarassed I was for having food in my teeth. God, I had been smiling and saying hello _to _

_everyone _today, and my teeth were probably dark brown! I was totally mortified and when Gordon left I dug out my compact from my purse and used a tissue to wipe off the accused chocolate. Fuck, I wasn't going to be able to smile again for the rest of the day!

Five o clock rolled around- time for dinner with the famous Rachel Dawes and Harvey. I had two hours to get ready, which was not enough time. I hurried home, played with Shima for five minutes, checked my answering machine, and then got ready. _Finally,_ I had an excuse to wear my Michael Kors white cut-out cocktail dress. And my new heels went with them great! I applied a few accessories, tortured my hair to make it straight, and then grabbed my clutch and car keys. Time to rock 'n' roll. The events of the other day had barely effected me today, I was happy to see, and I even found myself humming a tune as I walked out of the apartment complex and towards my car, hopping in.

The restaurant was perhaps my finest dream. I couldn't imagine dining with such granduer, such splendor. The clientele at Jean & Walter's, who were posh, looked like street people compared to these CEO executives. Everyone was elegant, intelligent, cultured, in amazing clothes. The women were shockingly attractive. These were the Beautiful People.

I saw Harvey sitting with a super pretty lady, and I walked over. "Hey!" I said as I approached, and gave Harvey a hug as he got up. I hadn't really gotten to talk to him or see him since he last came over, and I was happy to see him. "I'm on time, right?" Harvey laughed and I sat down and turned to the olive-skinned woman.

"Rachel, meet my sister, Barbara." I shook her hand. "She's the Assistant District Attorney."

"Really?" come to think of it, I did remember seeing her walking around at the office- she always had her hair up, though. "It's great to meet you, Harvey won't shut up about you!" Harvey and Rachel blushed and I ordered a vodka martini from the waiter and took a menu.

We talked, and I found myself really liking Rachel, as I gave her my, what mom liked to call it, "The Manhattan Onceover". I always did this when meeting someone new- half the time I didn't even realize I was doing it. I'll check you up and down, trying to confirm if you were a threat or not. I definately approved of Rachel, who was classy, smart and witty. Kind of like how I wanted to be.

We were interrupted.

"Rachel. Fancy seeing you here!" A tall, handsome man approached with a gorgeous blonde woman on her arm.

"Bruce. Fancy that." Rachel smiled. She looked to the lady. "Are you...?"

"Gabriel Hoffman. From the Russian ballet." The guy replied. "Let's move some tables together, shall we?"

I eventually got introduced. I realized I was sitting across from the Bruce Wayne, billionaire playgirl extraordinaire. To my surprise, he was a smart, humble, decent guy, besides the arrogant prick I immediately pictured him as.

"You two are siblings? You look nothing alike." Bruce noted. I leaned my head next to Harvey's, looking at him quizzically. "There we go. It's the cheekbones." We laughed and I sat back again.

And the night went on. I actually had a lot of fun, and had shyly expressed my love for Hoffman's work, whom I had seen in Metropolis twice. While the men discussed law and politics with Rachel, I was able to reveal some awesome secrets for styling my hair and in exchange I learned where to find the best boutiques and tailors in Gotham City. It was, all in all, an excellent evening, and I had managed to be on the ball enough tonight to always have a classy, intelligent answer, because everything had to be _perfect. _

**Like it? Love it? Hate it? Review please! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Waiting For the Miracle**As soon as I walked into work the next morning, my calm, professional demeanor I had established on the way to work completely evaporated. The place was in chaos, people hurrying back and forth already this early in the morning, law executives huddled in groups, discussing a matter which I did not know about. I went behind my desk, surprised that the place was so full so early in the morning. I set my purse down and turned on the computer, sipping coffee from my thermos amiably. I had packed a lunch today to avoid flashing my chocolate teeth to everyone. The phone started ringing off the hook as soon as they went online, and for the next three hours I barely had a moment to think as I was directing calls left, right and centre, directing police officers and lawyers from different cities and states to the appropriate rooms, and on top of it all Harvey was mad as all hell. Around eleven thirty the tidal wave of phone calls slowed down and I was able to sit back and breathe before slotting Harvey's appointments properly. I was scribbling them into the date book when the man himself walked down the large, marble stairway, a stack of files in his hand. He looked frustrated. I offered him a smile, which he barely returned. "Barbie, get Gordon on the phone and tell him I need to talk to him later." He instructed. I nodded, turning to the phone. "Grab yourself a cup of joe, first. You look beat." "Same to you. Come with me?" "Sure." I put the _BACK IN FIVE MINUTES _sign over my receptionist plaque, and followed him down the hall to the cafeteria. "Harv, what's going on?" I only heard bits and pieces of what was happening as I had been so busy. "Lau left the country." He said through gritted teeth. "That damn Gordon didn't keep my in the loop. I knew I should have taken his passport when I had the chance!" "Who's Lau?" Harvey grunted, irritated that I was so far behind. "Sorry.""No problem, kid." I poured coffee into my thermos while he grabbed a paper cup and filled it. We leaned against the table. The cafeteria was slowly filling up as lunch hour began, lines forming by the buffet set-up. "Lau is a well-known accountant that has one heck of a revenue- definately illegal. He was trying to buy into Bruce Wayne's company, but it looks like that business deal is on hold." He sipped the steaming coffee and winced. "Shit, that burned. But I believe Lau handles all the money from the mob here. Every single penny. If we get Lau and squeeze it out of him, we might just be able to help this city." He was staring far off, mind ticking off possibilities. "Harvey, that's the mob's _entire bank. _Jesus, it'll be war!" "So be it. This madness must end, Barbie. But he's gone, and China will not extradite a national. I was so damn close!" He sighed heavily, upset. "Hm. I wonder where Batman was," I said, half-jokingly. In the past three days I realized how much propoganda surrounded the caped crusader and I was super curious about him, as we had been talking about him last night at dinner with Wayne and the ballerina. But that seemed to quip an idea in Harvey's mind, because he downed his coffee and tossed it away. "Yeah, hey?" He said brightly. "Nevermind about calling Gordon, Barbie." He started walking away. "Hey...!" "Get back to work, sis!" And he left the cafeteria. I sighed, and plodded back over to my receptionist desk, wondering what sort of elaborate plan I had inspired in my focused older Harvey had plotted, Lau ended up back in the hands of the MCU within two days. Turns out, the Dark Knight had travelled half the world and mysteriously brought back a very pale bussiness-man. Two hours later they recieved a confession from him. One day later, it was absolute mayhem. However, one hour before Lau's final confession, Harvey called me from the MCU. He asked me if I could ask JoAnne in Legal Assistance to cover my position, so I could come pick up some important confessional documents and return them to his office. I grunted, irritated. "Why not as JoAnne? Or Elaine?" I asked. I was tired this morning, having being up late getting my place finally finished. "_You're the only one I can trust, Barbie. Just come on." _I sighed and agreed, and had JoAnne take my post. As I drove down to the MCU, I couldn't help but let Harvey's last words pierce me deeply. I'm supposed to be working Gotham's Finest, the most honorable and respectable people in the city, the ones who keep the streets clean and people safe at home at night. The protectors. And the District Attorney could only trust his little sister, the receptionist. It made me feel depressed, at the corruption. Now, every time an attorney, lawyer, or whatever suit, walked by my desk, I would be forced to scrutinize them, and wonder if they were the traitors. I hoped their inky corruption wouldn't manipulate me, entire parking lot of the MCU building was packed, and pissy, I had to park at least a block away on the curb. I locked up my car, and lit a cigarette. I definately would need one before I went into that mayhem. Leaning against my car, I pushed my sunglasses above my head, this time thankful for the sunlight beating down on my face. You didn't see much sunlight in Gotham. A man suddenly approached me, coming out of the alleyway a few doors down like liquid. "Hey lady," He had bright, frightening eyes that had a hardened intensity to them, like staring at brown diamonds that flinted like dark steel in the light. I surveyed him quickly. He had some kind of deformation or hare-lip, but it was hard to tell because he looking down, and the collar of his coat was pulled up. Besides, I didn't want to stare. "Gotta smoke?" "Um, no, sorry." I said, and turned away to walk."Fine, bitch." I kept walking, throwing a glance over my shoulder. He was gone. Thank god. My feathers ruffled, I walked into the MCU building and walked across the vented floor, worried my heels would get caught in one of the slants and I would break my ankle. Awesome, right. I walked into the lobby, where a pretty receptionist was behind the black marble desk. She looked at me over her glasses.

"Can I help you?" She drawled, Brooklyn accent imminent.

"Yes, I'm here to see Harvey Dent?" she looked me up and down scrutinizingly. I smiled, friendly.

"Do you have credentials?" I pulled out my laminated ID card from my wallet, stating that I was in fact an employee of Gotham Law Office. She inspected it, and then handed it back, and smiled. Her teeth were perfect, white and straight. I suffered through braces and retainers for four years of my childhood to get my teeth to mirror those. "Okay, just go over to Scott there and he'll run you through." I looked over to the doorway, where a metal detector and a police officer stood. I walked over, was patted down and had one of those handheld detectors passed over my body, let him search through my purse and I took off my heels so he could inspect them.

"It would be kinda hard to hide a weapon in these, hey?" Scott asked, smiling. He had a gold tooth. I smiled, slid my shoes back on, and was buzzed through the heavy door. An officer on the other side looked up as I stepped through. A holding cell containing at least six thugs whistled and barked as the first piece of female ass walked through the doors.

"Shut the hell up!" The officer barked harshly, and then looked at me, tiredly. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here too see Harvey Dent."

"Right this way, ma'am." He led me through another door, and up cold, concrete stairs. The air in here was stale, and smelled like depression. We walked up three flights, walked through a door and came to a carpeted hallway. It was dark in here, miserably so. We came to Interrogation Conference B, and he opened the door. Harvey and Jim Gordon were standing in front of a desk and a one-way mirror. Beyond it, I could see Rachel Dawes interrogating a small Asian man, whom I assumed was Lau. Harvey and Gordon turned to face me.

"Barbie, about time!" Harvey said, exasperated. From the desk, he picked up several red file folders and handed them to see. CONFIDENTIAL was stamped across the one of the top, the folder hole punched and laced together with black string. "Here's the key to my desk." He dug in his trouser pocket, and produced a tiny silver key. "Put them in there, okay?"

"Okay. How's everything going?"

"Well, as good as it can. He's not budging." Gordon said, folding his arms. "But, he'll give in time. I'll garuntee it."

"We'll see. I guess we learned to keep me in the loop, eh?" Harvey looked pointedly at Gordon, who shrugged. I sensed the tension between them. "Thanks, Barbie. Don't let anyone look at these. They're top priority. Got it? Seriously, got it?"

"Yes! Jeez, I wasn't born yesterday." I replied, irritated. "I'll see you back at the office."

"Okay, be careful. Watch the traffic, it seems like every lunatic decided to get behind the wheel and drive today." I chuckled, waving good-bye. I passed Rachel on the way out.

"Barbara! Nice to see you again." She looked flushed, excited. I could see why Harvey liked her so much. We shook hands quickly and I let them be. I was happy to escape the stuffy confines on the building, and was even more happy to get back in the car, away from the mish-mash of strange streets. I drove, carefully, heeding my brother's warning. Traffic was insane today, especially during the pre-rush hour. I got back to work safely though, and made my way up to Harvey's office. I had never been in there, before. It was lovely, with floor to cieling windows, an impressive cedar oak desk, midnight black filing cabinets, and a coffee table was a nice leather sofa located behind it, for meetings. I walked over to his desk, unlocked it, and opened the drawer. I dropped the stack of files amongst the others, relocked it, and returned to my post, relieving JoAnne of her duty.

"Finally!" She said, annoyed. "Jesus, you didn't run into the Joker again?" She sneered. I raised my brows.

"No." She huffed and left. I fumed, sitting back down, sipping my now cold coffee. I had been asked a few questions about my encounter at the bank, as one of my names were listed in the paper as survivors. It was a little surreal, seeing my name in the Gotham Times in such a dark article, although I was thankful that I wasn't in the casualty section. Some of the people here though, seemed to take that against me. Oh well, I was here to do my work, not participate in office gossip, although I had been a disheartened by it. I missed my girlfriends in Metropolis and had been really hoping I would be able to make some new friends here, but that looked like it was blown out the window, now, because of that clown freak. I checked over what JoAnne had done and was frustrated to see that there were post-it notes littered everywhere, and my papers were mismatched. It was like she was purposely trying to get to me.

I arranged. When I moved the last sheet, I saw a playing card, upside down. Frowning, I picked it up and turned the thin piece of materal over, and it was the Joker card. Across it, typed from a typewriter in smeared, blood-red ink, read,

_rock-a-bye barbie_

_on the rooftop_

_when the wind blows_

_barbe will fall_

_down will come barbie_

_eyes wide open and gone_

_and break her back on the lawn_

I stared at it for several moments, completely disgusted, and disturbed. I stood up, having half a mind to go freak out on JoAnne for making such a sick joke, but I slowly sat down instead. No, I wouldn't show those stupid bitches that they had gotten to me. I crumpled it up instead, and tossed it meangingfully into the garbage can, and tsked. Women were sick these days. And I wouldn't let them get to me. I had to hold myself together, for Harvey. And my sanity. I went back to work, the raped lullaby playing its disturbing tune in the back of my head the rest of the day.

I slept terribly that night. Thank God it was Friday the next day, and I would have the day off Saturday. The whole night, I was plagued with nightmares. Dreams about falling, tar, ink, and the Joker. It was whenever the Joker would enter my subconscious, it was the worst of everything else, because everytime I jolted away from uneasy sleep, I would feel strangely... aroused. It disgusted me, disturbed me, that I would feel this way. There was absolutely nothing sexually attractive about the man, he was a hideous, scarred beast who killed for pleasure. And yet, my witnessing his lithe, cat-like form and his disturbing twist on the classic Nietzsche quote, made him somehow charismatic. He was unpredictable. And stuck in my head.

Around three in the morning, I decided to give up on my sleep and run a steaming hot bath. I lounged in the tub, sipping a martini to help cool my nerves. Shima was sitting next to the tub, panting. I leaned my head back on the folded towel I had placed against the wall, and shut my eyes, feeling my body slowly relax, bit by bit. However, every couple seconds my mind would travel back to that terrible dream, the nightmare where I was caught in that madman's arms, and they held no warmth or comfort, just painfully squeezing, the smell of garbage and gasoline emitting from his mouth, his greasy head of hair making its way down my torso...

I gulped back the rest of my drink desperately, shaken. What was wrong with me? Shima whimpered next to the tub, putting his head on the rim, sensing my agitation. I rubbed his ears and his tail began to wag happily. I slid my head under the water for several seconds, listening to the quiet flow of water around me. When I resurfaced, Shima was gone. I could hear him eating his munch in the kitchen. I grabbed a towel and clambered out of the bath-tub. I watched the water swirl down the drain. The gurgling sound made me think of dark sewers and drowning. I left the bathroom.

At seven thirty, I had just returned from my run with Shima and was preparing for work. Before work started, I sat down and flicked on the telly to watch the weather before I left. It was a cool morning, but the sun promised warmth later in the day. However, instead of the usual weather report, there was a breaking news report. Being lowered from the mayor office roof, was Batman. He was hanging from a long black extension cord, dead. A large crowd surrounded the street, crying out in astonishment and shock. The cameraman zoomed in on his face. What wasn't covered with the black cowl was smeared in face paint, mirroring the Joker's mask. I shivered.

"_Please be aware, the images are disturbing." _I turned up the TV. The terrible, swinging form of Batman disappeared and instead there was a man tied up in a meat locker, looking severely injured. The camera was shaking a little. I felt chills when I heard the Joker's voice, that sick, nasal, stuttering voice that had been in my head, singing that lullaby. _Break her back on the lawn... _I sipped on my joe, wincing as it burned my tongue.

"What's your name?" The Joker asked, giggling.

"B-Brian." The injured man spat back.

"Are you the real Batman?"

"No." Suddenly, the camera lurched forward, and the cowl was plucked from the man's head. Seeing his pale, sweaty face in such fear made me feel ill. He struck me as the type of man who had a good wife, a couple of kids, a decent job and just about to finish paying off the mortgage on their nice house. Not anymore. If he did have a family, I prayed they weren't watching.

"Then why do ya dress up like him?" The Joker asked, laughing and mocking Brian.

"Batman says we don't have to be afraid... of scum like you." Brian wheezed out, and I applauded him on his bravery. I'm pretty sure if I was in that position I would piss myself in fear.

"Oh... you do Brian, _you really do._" Silence. "Look at me. _Look at me!" _His voice was filled with rage, and it made me breathe out shakily. The camera suddenly turned and the Joker's face was on screen and I stared, fascinated but disturbed. His disgusting face leered through the screen, much too large for life for my taste. I licked my dry lips.

"This is how _crazy _Batman's made Gotham. If you want order, in- uh, Gotham, Batman must take off his mask!" He demanded, grinning. "Oh-" an afterthought? Great. "And everyday he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my _word." _And he started to laugh, and laugh, and then I heard Brian yelling, the shrill of the video being intercepted, and then the screen went black.

Work was uproarious. Lau had confessed, and had revealed the names of over 500 clients, all of whom he handled their illegal funds. I was shocked at the huge pile of inmates standing in one court room. I could hear the yelling, the protests and the cat calls as the verdict was laid down, from where I was sitting down upstairs. I was immensely proud of Harvey- this had been all of his idea. I was smiling a little to myself. I had been right- all you need is a little faith. When he came to see me at lunch and after the circus of that particuliar trial ended, he was walking on air, looking accomplished and relieved.

"Congrats, Harv!" I said brightly, and stood up. We paused, and then I shook his hand. "I'm so proud of you."

"What can I say? It's my job." He said, humble- although I could tell he was bursting with pride underneath. "Think of what we can do with two years of clean streets, Barbie. We're one step closer, I can see it. There's still hope for this city."

"I believe you." I said, sitting down. "Definately call Auntie Jill, she'll shit a brick when she hears." Harvey grinned wickedly.

"Oh, I will. I gotta run though, I'll see you later." And he was off down to criminal court, and I listened as his footsteps gradually faded away. Gordon came by, too, and I shook his hand and congratulated him.

"Hold that thought." He said, looking exhausted. "We still have to deal with the Joker." That made my mood dampen a bit. "If he makes good on his threat, we'll be out of the frying pan and into the fire." I smiled a little, trying to be encouraging.

"Good luck." I said. "You'll need it."

"You're telling me?" He smiled. "Bye, Barbie. Keep up the good work."

"Bye, Lieutenant." And he was off, his shoulders straight but his soul slumped over. I wasn't sure how much more that little man could take.

Tonight was Bruce Wayne's fundraiser party for Harvey, which he had generously offered during our dinner meeting. I myself was ecstatic that Bruce had also invited me along, even though I didn't know anybody. The best of the best were going to be there, and also I would get to see what Bruce's penthouse looked like. As I walked up the hallway of the apartment building, I frowned when I heard Shima barking madly behind the door, and I quickly unlocked it and stepped inside. He was barking violently, growling, his fur standing straight up, ears back, tail stiff and straight. He was ready to kill.

"Shima, babe, what's wrong?" I asked, kneeling down and stroking his head. He just kept growling and barking at the doorway. "What's the matter with you?" He turned to me and licked my face and I hugged my dog closely. I glanced over my shoulder and saw some mail on the floor, that had come from the slot. "Jeez, did the mail man scare you?" I asked, and he barked. "Get outta here," He sat down heavily and just kept staring at the door. I rolled my eyes, retrieved my mail. A letter from Auntie Jill, a letter from my old bank in Metropolis confirming that indeed, my bank account with them has been terminated, a promotional flyer for a new burger joint in town, and a blank envelope. I frowned. Who sends blank envelopes? It had something in it though, it was heavier then it should be, the middle of it particularily bulging. I tore it open, and out came pouring out 52 joker cards, and a photograph, which landed backwards on my lap.

I picked up the photograph, and turned it over to see, with shock, a picture of me and Harvey. It was from about two years ago, when we went on a camping trip with Auntie Jill and Uncle Floyd. We were standing in front of a new sea-do, and we were both very tanned from the sun. We stood next to each other, smiling. Except, over our faces, was either red paint of permanent marker. Clown smiles had been drawn on us, or like someone had taken a knife and had cut us from ear-to-ear, fashioning ourselves a good ole' Chelsea grin, and I threw the photograph away, disgusted. I was shaking. Okay, JoAnne had gone too damn far. The poem was creepy enough, but now this? This was beyond immature. This was sick.

And yet. Something in the back of my head reassured me that JoAnne hadn't done this. She doesn't even know where I live! I've only spoken to her like, four times! Only Harvey knew where I lived. And why would he do something like this? Why was Shima so bothered and angry? I swallowed. My mouth was dry. The photograph lay there, harmless as an object but a tool to the destructuring on my well-being. I stood up, and wiped my sweaty palms on my pencil skirt. Someone was fucking with me. But who? It couldn't be anyone from the office. Harvey, who could be a jerk sometimes, had enough sense and self-respect not to pull a prank like this. A sudden cold thought struck me, like I had been doused in cold water. I _was _the District Attorney's little sister. The mob might know who I am. The Joker might know who I am. Who goes to say they won't try to use me to get to him? If I were to say anything, would that just blow everything out of proportion? Should I forget about it and leave it at that?

Shima nudged me with his nose, startling me. He whimpered. I stroked his ears, for both our comforts. Then, I slowly got ready for the evening, fashioning myself a violet cocktail dress and black stilletos. To give me something to do, I stood in the bathroom and curled my hair slowly, my mind ticking over the terrible piece of mail I would recieve. I formulated a plan- I would get Harvey to come over after the party, and show him, and see what he thought. I didn't want to ruin his night with something that might be nothing, and I also didn't want to cause a scene. However, a sense of doom had overtaken me, like a black, rotted tooth was in my head, that needed to be pulled out, but that was impossible. It spread until I smoked a cigarette and had a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Make that three. After that, I loosened up a bit and gradually felt my anxiety leave. Perhaps drinking the problem away wouldn't help and might only make matters worse when I faced my hang over the next morning, it was all I had.

At eight, it was time to go, and I got in my car and drove to Wayne manor. It took me a little while to find it, as it was just outside Gotham city limits, but I was in no rush. I had popped a Valium before I left to further calm my nerves. Harvey would kill me if he found out, but I thought I deserved it. I checked out the Gotham night life. The city lights were bright, the glittery bats had come out of the woodwork and littered the concrete jungle with cigarette butts and tequila shot glasses. Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll filled the air. Laughter and voices would rise to the night anonymously, and mine would be there, too. Life surrounded me, and although I didn't feel isolated, I still felt shy.

New city, new job, new people. My mind wondered back to the Joker and I shook my head physically, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. I feared I was becoming a little obsessed with him, but he was _fascinating. _I didn't understand his reasonings, I didn't get his mind-set. I wondered what he saw that made him what he was today. I wondered why he was always smiling.

Wayne's penthouse was awesome. The place was packed from wall to wall with people in law and politics, sponsors and everything inbetween. I looked for Harvey right away, and found him standing by himself near the bar, sipping champagne. I walked over to him.

"Barbie, you made it. Don't leave me with these people," He begged, and I laughed.

"Likewise, I don't know anyone here!" I picked up a glass of champagne from the table and sipped the bubbly. It tasted great. "Are you nervous?"

"What? Of course I am!"

"You're not afraid to beat the mob senseless but you're afraid of these guys?" I asked, and he glared at me. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Were you smoking? I smell it." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"No..."

"Okay... Rachel!" I turned around and Rachel Dawes was approaching, looking absolutely stunning in a midnight blue goddess gown. Harvey pecked her on the cheek and I shook her hand.

"I see the Dent kids had found each other." She grinned. "How are you, Barbara?"

"I'm great, thanks! And you can just call me Barbie."

"Oh? Barbie and Harvey. I like it!" She nudged Harvey teasingly, who shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah... where's Wayne, isn't this his place?"

"Yep. He's always late though."

"Hm. Maybe you should introduce him to Ms Tardiness over here, they'd make a nice couple." He nudged me and I blushed, totally aghast at the idea of me and Wayne being late together. Rachel laughed. Her laugh was so pretty, it reminded me of a bell tinkling. "When are you going to get a boyfriend, Barb?" Harvey teased, nudging me playfully. I pushed him back lightly.

"I don't know." I mumbled, and sipped my bubbly down. "The picking doesn't seem too fresh in Gotham."

"You got that right." Rachel agreed.

Wayne arrived. Grandly. In a helicopter. He walked through the balcony doors, three gorgeous babes on his arm.

"Hello everyone! Sorry I'm late, I'm glad to see you all started with out me!" He announced loudly, smiling pleasently. "Now, where is Harvey, the man of the hour. Where- there!" He singled out Harvey, who looked uncomfortable as all eyes were on him. Wayne made a short speech, beckoning Rachel over and thanking her for letting him notice how Harvey was such an incredible candidate for cleaning up Gotham once and for all. When he was finished, everyone applauded, and the party commenced.

I myself had no idea that this place was going to a circus in about ten minutes. I had nestled myself with several people from my work, and thankfully JoAnne wasn't there. Lisa was the civil court reporter and I liked her. She was tiny, Asian, with long black hair that I envied. We were talking about the amazing lock-up of over 500 criminals while Commisioner Loeb died in his office and Judge Surray was blown to pieces in her car.

The gunshot blast startled everyone into silence. I whipped around and was shocked to see the Joker. His goons fanned out through the crowd, disarming anyone potentially dangerous, and began to infiltrate throughout the penthouse. The Joker looked around, looking excited as a puppy.

"Goood evening, ladies and gentlemen! We are tonight's entertainment!" He announced, moving through the silent crowd, which parted like the Red Sea to let him pass. "I only have one question." He looked around, loving the dreadful suspense he brought down on everyone. "Where is Harvey Dent?" My heart started to hammer and I looked around wildly, trying to find my brother. Fear clutched me. Lisa grabbed my forearm, looking petrified. I held onto her hand tightly, and when no one answered the fiend, he clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Really, then? Do you know where he is?" He started poking people. He tore a glass of bubbly from one girl's hand and tossed it back, and he slammed it down on the table next to him. "Do you know where he is?" He weaved through the crowd, prodding people with his pump-action. When he came to me and Lisa, his eyes fell on me and I stared back at him, feeling my heart stop as all his attention was applied to me. A sick grin twisted onto his scarred face. He approached me. "I'll have to settle for his loved one's instead." He hissed. It felt like a rope was tightened around my neck as the barrel of the gun. His stinking breath made me feel sick. The barrel of the shotgun pressed into my neck and I shrunk back.

"Okay, stop." The Joker whirled around and there was Rachel, standing defiantely, alone. She stared down the Joker and I was taken aback by her courage.

"Weeellll, hel_-_lo beautiful!" He said, slicking his hair back as he skipped over to her. "You must be Harvey's squeeze!" He circled her. "And boy, you are beautiful." I watched, terrified that he would shoot her, stab her, who knows. "C'mere." He grabbed her face and I started forward, but Lisa held me back.

"Don't." She whispered. I stood there, vibrating.

"You look scared." The Joker remarked, tilting his head forward. "Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got 'em?" Rachel didn't answer, just kept staring him down, refusing to let him intimidate her. "I had a wife once. Beautiful, like you. Who liked to gamble, and got in deep with the sharks. One day they carve her face, and we have no money for surgeries. I just wanna see her smile again, ya know? I wanted her to know that I don't care about the scars! So one day, I stick a razor in my mouth, and do this to myself." He swirled his tongue in his cheeks and I bit my lip, feeling sick. "And you know? She can't stand the sight of me!" He sounded pained. It didn't detract any sympathy from me, just morbid shock and wonder that one man would go so far to please his wife. "She leaves me. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!" He started to laugh, but Rachel booted him in the knee, hard. He fell back, but recovered quickly. "A little fight in you? I like that."

"Then you're going to love me." A husky, dark voice growled, and Batman was there. He punched the Joker in the face, who fell to the ground with the force of it. I looked at the Dark Knight and was intimidated by how frightening he was. He battled with the Joker's goons, and I pried myself from Lisa and looked for Harvey. I panicked, weaving through the agitated crowd, calling Harvey's name. Worry filled me when I couldn't find him. I found Rachel though, who was looking for Harvey too. I grabbed her hand.

"Where's Harvey, Barbara?" She asked, looking pale. "Where is he?" And then her eyes widened as she looked over my shoulder, and a powerful arm slid around my waist and yanked me away from Rachel. I smelled that same stinking breath as dry lips hit my neck.

"I'll be back for you, princess." The Joker hissed, and did so quickly that no one heard or would even realize that he did, and he tossed me to the ground and grabbed Rachel instead. He pressed the gun to Rachel's head and Batman squared off on him.

"Drop the gun." He growled.

"Yeah, sure, and you take off that little mask and show everyone who you really are!" The Joker demanded. Batman did nothing. He shot the window out and held Rachel over the edge. I was siezed in panic. We were on the 34th floor of a building, with nothing but concrete at the bottom.

"Let her go."

"Very poor choice of words!" The Joker let Rachel go and she dropped into the night, her scream fading. Batman lunged after her. The Joker took off through the crowd, disappearing like mist. I ran to the window and looked down. The height made me feel dizzy. I could barely make out Batman and Rachel laying on top of a taxi. I saw Rachel slowly sit up and I breathed a sigh of relief. Lisa grabbed me, her face white.

"Let get outta here!"

"I have to find Harvey!" I protested, and ran back into the quickly dispersing crowd to find my brother, whom I prayed wasn't dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Waiting For the Miracle**

**A/N; I am so sorry guys about the last chapter! I had no idea the paragraphs didn't separate, stupid Microsoft Word! Anyways, here is the next chapter, I really hope you all enjoy it. At this part of the story it's going to stray from the Dark Knight plot-line a little, but bear with me, I think it'll be awesome! Review please!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own batman or anything from DC. I do own Barbara Dent.**

I sat on the bathroom floor, weeping. The mutilated picture that had been mailed to me was clenched tightly to my chest, over my heaving heart. The martini glass in my hand shook as my hand did, the olives slowly circling with the rhythm. Shima's head was on my lap, ears flat against his head, tail tucked underneath his legs. Black mascara trailed my face. Harvey had not been fazed by the attempted assassination, but I had been. The greasy, lukewarm barrel of the shotgun that had buried itself in my collarbone had made it painfully clear that it could blow a bowling ball through my flimsy, frail chest.

Also, even easier so to blow Harvey's face straight into Hell. I sighed shakily, sniffing, trying to slowly regain control. I gulped my martini, gasping at the warm vodka and as it slowly warmed my insides. I kept imagining what could have happened, the bloodbath it could have been if Batman hadn't shown up. I imagined Harvey's dead body, the blood that would have pooled under him. A thousand memories, good and bad, from our childhood played through my head. I cried, rubbing my forehead. The thought of losing him was too much to bear. He was all I had in this big, cold city.

The phone rang, startling me. I let it go to the answering machine, as usual, not daring to answer the phone in the state I was in. I imagined myself bawling over the phone to a telemarketer and snorted a laugh at the sick hilarity of it all. I closed my eyes. The person decided not to leave a message. I could hear His voice in my head.

"_I'll be back for you, princess." _I felt my heart seize in fear. I had not told a soul about what the Joker had said to me, least of all to Harvey. He would blow the coop, freak out, go utterly crazy and miss his steps. Ruin his plans. I ran through the possibilities- possibilities that maybe this was a joke. Or that he was trying to get to me so that it will get to Harvey. I knew I should have told someone, at least contacted the police. But maybe that was exactly what the Joker wanted? Maybe he wanted me to tell everyone, to make his event more hilarious. Or maybe I would end up dead because I hadn't said anything. Anxiety fuelled my veins. I slammed back the rest of my drink, and made another one.

The other sad note to the ruined fundraiser, as well, were the two deaths that had concurred during the party. Commissioner Loeb and Judge Carrillo had also been assassinated that evening- Loeb's alcohol had been replaced with acid, and his oesophagus had deteriorated immediately and he choked on his own blood in his office. Carrillo had been blown to pieces by a car bomb twenty minutes later. The funeral was tomorrow, and today the whole law office was closed in memoriam. It was ten thirty in the morning, and I was halfway drunk.

I dragged myself to the kitchen to make another drink. I felt dizzy and ill. A few drinks could always clear that up, though, I had been finding in the past year. Harvey had commented on my drinking several times, but I did not see a problem, although I would have to find a way to combat these hangovers. I leaned against the counter and looked at the pouring rain outside. It hit the windows, washing them, making everything blurry and ethereal on the other side. I walked over to the window and looked over the city. I had never really appreciated the view I had from the 25th floor. The streets were dotted with little black umbrellas, people running into shops to escape the rain, taxis and cars weaving on the dark pavement, their lights ghostly illuminating the objects around them.

I settled my decision then- tomorrow evening, after the funeral, I would bring forth everything I had received from the Joker to Harvey and Jim Gordon and see what they had to say. I wouldn't do it today because Harvey was going to be busy, and I figured it would be more respectful to wait until Loeb's funeral. No one had contacted me yet, either, so I figured the Joker hadn't made his threat public yet, which was what he seemed to like to do. It was amazing what one man could do with a few simple phone calls, a couple of bullets and some dynamite. I sipped my drink and smoked a cigarette. Lightning squabbled in the dark sky, thunder shook the complex. Shima nudged my legs, barking. I patted his head.

The day of the funeral, I was very hungover. I had drank all day and had ended up puking for an hour, and passed out on the bathroom floor. When I awoke it was very early, and I had met Harvey for breakfast. The whole time, as I gulped down coffee and impatiently waited for the Tylenol to kick in, I held back the confession that had to be made. Harvey looked exhausted, his face grey and the usual bright aura surrounding him gone. We didn't really eat, just drank our coffees, sitting quietly, staring at the liquid before us. Then, we went out separate ways, and I prepared for the funeral. I dressed solemnly in black, and took extra time to do my hair, slowly organizing the mass amount of terrible events that had plagued us in the past three days. I drove to Memorial Avenue, where the march would take place, the speeches and the honorary moment of silence, and then close family and friends would head over to Gotham Cemetery, just on the outskirts of the city, for the burial. I would not be attending the burial myself.

I waited by myself as the grieving crowd assembled. At least two hundred people had shown up, their faces solemn. The entire police force marched through the streets as the band played the Last Rites. I walked slowly, the sun beating down on my head. The world was dark and cloudy, though, beyond my sunglasses.

The speeches took about half an hour. I saw Harvey and Jim Gordon standing on the bandstand behind Mayor Rodriguez. I caught Harvey's eye and gave him a tiny wave, which he didn't return but acknowledged. I listened to Loeb's career story.

"_I'll be back for you Princess." _Those slimy words. I clenched my fists in my pockets. "_Barbie will fall. Break her back on the lawn. Eyes wide open and gone." _I imitated sucking on a coin to help coat my dry throat with saliva.

I jumped as the officers began to shoot honourable shots into the air as the mayor went silent and everyone bowed their heads for silence. Two rounds went. And then, a sporadic spray of bullets above. I looked up to the sky and saw that in the window rafters above, police snipers had their guns trained on one specific window.

I turned back to the stands at the last second to see the five police officers suddenly turn their guns on the mayor. A split second to react. Gordon pulled Rodriguez to the ground as the guns fired. Everyone ducked and started running in crazed directions. Gunfire broke out. Chaos erupted. I covered my head and tried to get out of the way of the sudden panicking crowd, but a huge fat guy that had probably never ran so fast in his life, barrelled into me, shoving me straight into a police officer.

Terribly strong hands gripped my forearms as I looked up at the towering man. I gasped as I saw a terribly mutilated face, olive-skinned cheeks crumpled like a squished blanket, a zig zag of pain tracing each cheek. His lips were swollen and naked. But those eyes were the same, still dark sparks of evil, deep in those crazed sockets. They bore into mine with a ferocity I could not keep up with. His fingers dug into my skin and his head leaned towards mine, stinking breath invading my face.

And then he tossed me to the ground violently, and I landed hard. He ran past me, slipping into the panicked crowd like a fluid. That was all. I scrambled back my feet, unable to believe what I had just seen.

"_Barbie!" _Harvey grabbed my arm suddenly, making me jump. I shrieked in surprise.

"Harv! Are you okay?" He looked rattled.

"I'm fine, are you?" I nodded. "Where's Rachel?"

"I'm not sure!"

"Get home and lock the door. I'll call you later!" I nodded and bolted through the crowd, still seeing what I was sure was the Joker. I felt my mouth go dry as I hit the sidewalk and quickly escaped back up the street and into my car. I drove home quickly, obsessively checking my back mirror. That had been the Joker. I wondered if I was going to pay for seeing him without his mask on. As soon as I got back into my apartment I let Shima bound into my arms and I clutched him tightly as he licked my face. I didn't even tell him top stop, just held on tightly, as if he was the only thing that could keep me from losing it.

Ten minutes later, after I had mixed myself a drink and was sipping it, smoking, a knock came at the door. I walked over, prepared fully to see a police officer, but that unfortunately was not the case.

"Hell-_oo, _princess!"

The Joker shoved me back into the apartment. I landed flat on my shocked ass, and Shima leapt in front of me, barking and growling wildly, his hair standing on end as his master's safety was threatened. The Joker clucked. Two more masked men followed him in. "Beat it, pooch, or I'll clean ya out." He pulled from his pocket a small knife. I realized it was a potato peeler.

"Don't!" I gasped, unsure if I was begging for him not to stab me or my dog. The Joker grabbed Shima's collar and threw him into the bathroom next to us with shocking strength, and slammed the door. Shima started scratching at it and barking hysterically.

I stared up at him from the floor. I was too paralyzed in shock to feel anything, just felt my blood pressure drop and the heat to rise to my cheeks.

"What a _cuute _blushing Barbie-doll ya are." He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to my feet, as I shrieked in surprise. "You and me, little Miss Dent, are gonna have some fun tonight. You're gonna be in _stitches._" I opened my mouth to scream and he covered my mouth with his greasy, gloved hand and shoved me into the hall table. The vase of pretty flowers toppled over and the back of me was soaked with water instantly, my kidney screaming in pain as the corner of the table dug into me. "Now, now, now, don't go screamin', or I'll have to bite those pretty lips off, okay? Unless ya wanna get _rough_." I considered biting him and then thought of this freak's teeth pulling my mouth off and I just cried into his hand. He let me go. "Atta girl. I don't mind it when bitches cry." He squeezed my face, hard. I heard the bones in my jaw crunch lightly and I feared he would punch holes through my cheeks with his thick fingers.

"Oh…" I whimpered, grimacing as he pressed hard on my temples, the corners of my eye sockets. He groaned.

"Only an _artist _should be able to touch a specimen as delicate as this." He purred sadistically. "Although," He said, the word drawn out. "A coupla' scars will make this ugly thing _sparkle." _The potato peeler graced the corner of my mouth and I tried not to faint. The pressure released on my face and I almost sagged in relief. "C'mon now, princess. You have a _date _with _Mista J."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Waiting For the Miracle**

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back! Enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman. I do own Barbara Dent.**

Fear and control is a delicate, primal thing that has been practised for centuries on billions of people. It is an intricate, complicated device that can bring a strong person to their knees and break their minds like china dolls falling off a shelf. Power is the name of the game, and once one is wrapped around the little finger of the assailant, the two pawns of fear and control follow, adding to the strings already attached to the victim. It spins your head, drains your blood, closes off your lungs. You breathe fire and battery acid pumps through your veins. You go numb. You are nothing but a bug, in the eyes of the assailant.

I sat still as a statue, trying to think of happy thoughts. Roses, rivers, big grassy fields, baby horses, whatever. I stared at my knees, unable to stop the tears from building up in my corneas, my knuckles tightly clenched, white as snow, my fingernails digging into the palms of my hand. They would leave deep, half-moon crescent imprints. The Joker sat across from me, rocking with the motions of the van (how cliche, I thought, but how conveniant). It was stuffy in here, and it smelled like gasoline and tar. It made my throat dry and I swallowed.

"Barbieeee." The Joker hissed. I didn't dare look up at him. "Turn those pretty eyes up here." When his finger tapped my chin I jerked my face up, disgusted by his touch. He was leaning forward. The sleeves of his mauve jacket had travelled up his wrists, revealing bulging veins and powerful muscle. Break your neck like a toothpick. Tear the door of a car clean off. "Barbie and Harvey. I like it. You don't look nothin' like him though, toots.

Adopted? Your parents didn't want cha? Well...?"

"N-no." I whispered.

"Who do ya look like then?"

"M-my mom."

"Aww, you got your mommy's face, don'tcha?" He leaned back and reached into his pocket. I watched it, warily. The adrenaline in my body made me hyper-sensitive, but it also made me paranoid, and I waited in suspense for what he would pull out of his pocket of deadly tricks. He sensed my agitation and giggled. "Wanna know why I didn't knock ya out?" I shook my head. Honestly, I didn't really want to know why, but I figured it would be best not to ignore him, thinking back to the man he had killed on television. I did not want to face a madman's wrath, especially if my brother's life was in the balance, and my own. "Do you wanna know why, princess?" This time, I didn't answer. I felt like it was a trick question. "_Well?" _His fingers were wrapping around something in his pocket. I could tell by the bulge moving.

"Yes." I whispered.

"Control is an iffy thing, isn't it?" He started, and from his pocket

(it's a gun he's going to blow my head off)

he pulled a black cigarillo and a pack of matches. He stuck one in his mouth and lit it.

"Want a coffin nail?" He asked, grinning. "I know ya smoke." He said, and protruded another one. "Don' worry toots, it won't explode in your mouth. Although, at the rate these things kill ya, at least you'll go out with a Bang!" He laughed hard, and then suddenly grew dead serious and I felt my heart sieze in fear at the insane, angry glare of his hazel eyes. "Take it, bitch." With shaking fingers, I did. It was dry and tasted like Cuba on my lips. He lit his match, lit his smoke, and then lit mine, forcing me to hold eye contact with him. I could not decipher his emotion, but it was vile and cruel. He was playing with me, feigning being nice, only to destroy me in the end. Cruel twist of fate.

"What do you say?" He asked, like he was speaking to a small child. I inhaled on the cigar.

"Thank you." I whispered.

"Good girl." He blew smoke in my face and I tried not to cough. "Anyways, as I was sayin'. Control. Ever read the book Dante's Inferno?" He asked. I had, I had studied it in grade 12 Advanced English studies at Metropolis High School. I nodded. "I think you n' Harvey are in the exact same position as Dante and his li'l beau. She sells her soul to

Satan, and good ole Dante betrays her and commits every single deadly sin he can. Kinda like how you move to Gotham. That's like sellin' your soul, ain't it? Why did ya come to this dirty city, babe?"

"I- I lost my job."

"Huh. No surprise there." I flushed with embarassment. "Anyways, ya move to this corrupt neighborhood, thinking you will be protected by big brother Harvey, whose just as corrupt as the next politician." I bit my tongue before I could protest. He watched me closely, and grinned when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "But no. Harvey tries to alter humanity, tries to change the skin of society. But that ain't easy. So he fits some people with cement shoes and sees how well they can swim in the Gotham river. Betcha didn't know that about your bro, hey?" He winked and I felt ill. _He's lying. _I told myself, over and over again. Don't let him get into your mind.

"No."

"Good, so ya learned something. Isn't ignorance bliss?" I didn't reply. "So Dante comes home, but his baby is gone. The Devil came to collect her. Think of it like this," He leaned forward and he was only inches away. "You can be the innocent, fragile virgin flower. And

I can be the big bad Devil." He laughed in my face and I shrunk my head back into the seat. "But we're only halfway through the story, babe." He leaned back, spreading his legs, tapping his cigar ashes inbetween his feet. He spread one arm across the seat. "Now we gotta see if the White Knight is gonna go through Hell to get his baby sister back.

Whatcha think of that bed time story?"

"I don't know." I whispered, and was aware that my cigar had become one solid cylinder of ashes. I threw it on the ground and stubbed it out with my heel.

"Wanna know the ending?" He asked, raising his brows. I desperately wanted to shake my head. But I didn't say anything. "I think Harvey the White Knight won't walk through the seven circles of Hell and get his baby sister back. I don't think he can face the Devil head on. I think he's too damn cowardly for that. And you do too, don't you, way deep inside that thick, naive skull of yours."

"I-"

"Rhetorical question, bitch. C'mere." I blinked, confused. He rolled his eyes, and grabbed my hand and yanked me straight into his lap. I coiled in disgust, repulsed. He stank, and it was like sitting on a pile of wood. He was all muscle and bone. His arm wrapped around my waist and pinched my hips. "Fuck, you are too thin. It's kinda gross. Anyone ever told you that anorexia is unhealthy?" I didn't say anything, just burned in humiliation. He chuckled. "I like my girls with a li'l more meat on their bones." He crushed me into him.

His hot breath went down my shirt. "At least ya dress the part." He pulled on the collar of my shirt and I winced as he looked down at my breasts. "Hmph." He grunted, displeased. "Lackin' in that department, too." I blushed, self-conscious. "So tell me, Barbie, why do ya dream about me?" I looked at him, shocked, embarassed. He grinned, and I saw every single one of his yellow, stained teeth. "C'mon, babe, I know ya do. Ya like it _rouuugh,_ ya like a real _man _to split ya alcoholic ass in half, _riiiight?"_ When I didn't answer, he grabbed my neck and pinched my cartoid shut and I gasped at the pain. "Answer, you cunt."

"N-no!"

"Don't _lie _to me!" He barked. He squeezed harder. Tears from my eyes dripped onto his wrist and trailed.

"Y-yes." I whimpered, defeated. The pressure slackened, but only a little.

"When ya dream about me, I always fuck ya down 'n dirty, don't I? And ya like it, right?" He squeezed again when I didn't answer.

"Yes!" I sobbed. I felt something hard begin to poke into my thigh.

"Ya wake up and those slutty panties of yours are always soaked, _riiight?" _

"Yes..." I whimpered, crying freely now, so embarassed, so defeated. I wanted to die.

"Ugh, you disgust me." He let go of my neck and I barely caught myself before I fell against him, breathing in great gulps of air. "I wouldn't fuck ya if ya got on your hands and knees right now, toots." He turned my face towards his. His fingers were rubber on my skin. "I do need somethin' from you, though. Gotta get Harv's attention, right?" He pulled from the inside of his jacket a thick, shiny blade and my heart began to race. He grabbed my hand, and pinched my ring finger out. "I hope you weren't plannin' on gettin' married, baby. 'Cause I need this finger." He looked at me and laughed.

Then, he sawed my ring finger off with the knife.

The pain turned the switches in my hay-wired mind off, and I fainted.


End file.
